{"sf1_id":591508,"sf2_id":null,"title":"The Second Conception","author":"BlackSmoke","words":4079,"posted_at":"2013-09-17T16:39:00.000Z","tags":["Canine","M/F","Plot Development","Transformation","Zoophilia","hellhound","tf"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/591508-the-second-conception","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/591508","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=591508\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"\u003e \u003e \u003e \u003e \"In sleep, we are at our most vulnerable. In our dreams, where every memory, both good and\u003e bad, can lay siege to our hapless minds, we have no defense. We can be tricked into\u003e believing that pain, smells, sensations of touch such as heat and cold, textures of liquids\u003e and brittle solids, and sounds of men and nature, are real to us. Sometimes, when we least\u003e expect it, a dream can become as tangible as to be more powerful an experience than even\u003e reality itself.\"\u003e -Commodus\n\nCarol was by this time, gone forever. It was much like death, this reality, in which she   \n  \nwas but a smear in the psyche of this ancient, everpresent shadow. Her existence was like   \n  \nthe blink of an eye, the bat of the tail, to the Hellhound Matron, who had assimilated and   \n  \nabsorbed so many women before her, strong women, into her singular mindest. So easily and   \n  \nwillfully did they submit to her power, they were no longer separate in any way, but a   \n  \nuniform, processed spread in the beast's collective conscious, lost forever, unable to ever   \n  \nbe separated, nothing on their own and only a small, dispensable piece of the whole.  \nBut the smear that was Carol held more weight than any other entity in its entire\n\n\u0026nbsp;multidimensional existence.  \n  \nThough carrion, Carol's strong memories and emotions would not be ground away. They were   \n  \nlike rocky fossils, so delicate, but deep in the earth, persistent. The earth would try as   \n  \nit might, with water, heat, movement, and age, to destroy and assimilate these fragments of   \n  \na long-lost being, but could not. It could twist them and change them and hollow them, but   \n  \ntheir marks would remain for aeons.  \n  \nCarol still existed, as a ghost, an imprint. She existed through the footprints she left   \n  \nin the jungle's soft topsoil, and as a ghost in Carl's memories. She could never be a   \n  \ncomplete entity on her own, anymore. The Hellhound Matron was her final testament, and it   \n  \norever warped the memories of her so-far-surviving husband held of her.  \n  \n Looking at the hellhound was like looking at a tombstone, or a corpse. Carl held   \n  \nthe instinctual and unalienable comprehension that this beast, it WAS Carol. It's all that   \n  \nwas left of Carol. It was what Carol was made of, it's what she became. The bristling   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;fur, the devilish, bloodstained teeth, the deep, hollow, black eyes. [a] They were to him   \n  \nthe decay of the lovely form that he held and enjoyed, that was once so full of life and   \n  \nlove and warmth, that held him back, that he shared his very essence of life with.  \n  \nBut feeling this tomb of Carol, feeling its fur, its hot breath, in contempt or compassion   \n  \nor confusion, was to Carl's instincts like facing the very essence of undead. There was no   \n  \nliteral corpse risen from the dead, but a being warped and made of the metaphorical,   \n  \nmetaphysical, and philosophical corpse of his Carol. There was no literal decay, but   \n  \nthere was only the barest indications of what once was Carol; those few memories and   \n  \nfeelings as petrified bones deep in the soil, waiting to be unearthed, hoping to be   \n  \nunearthed, before they're ground away forever in the churning and hot crust, before they're   \n  \nburied too deep to ever be reached again.  \n  \nOnly Carl could hope to unearth these bones, like he had countless other times, on   \n  \ncountless expeditions, deep in the distant places of the world. He was able to give life   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;to these long-dead peoples and cultures through the discovery of their remnants and their   \n  \narts. Perhaps this would work, if he could only find out how to dig here.  \n  \n  \nBut, what seemed like some time ago, Carl had given up.  \n  \nAn undetermined amount of time passed with the Hellhound pacing, throwing itself. it   \n  \nturned on Carl in anger and hate, it slunk to him in sorrow, it howled in desperation. It   \n  \nexpressed and followed through the whole range of emotions it could here, deep in this dank   \n  \nchamber, dark, dripping, humid. The stone door was ground away with deep gouges but the   \n  \nbeast's unnatural, predatory claws never dulled. Its teeth gnashed and never wore, its   \n  \nability and power to kill never at all waned through all its self-abuses, mentally and   \n  \nphysically.  \n  \nHere, Carl had given up. He'd given up on love. He looked blankly at the hellhound like   \n  \nhe would a gravestone. Sometimes he wanted to tear up, but his tears had all been shed.   \n  \nThere was a large puddle of blood around his leg, where he had not moved it for all this   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;time. Hours? Hours and hours, perhaps they'd dragged on into a day. The blood was   \n  \nalready coagulating on his wound in a flaky, yellow, oily scab. **The swelling was hard   \n  \nand hot on his leg. Maybe he was getting an infection. The leg would probably need to be   \n  \namputated, even without the archaic shackle going between the bones.  \nDrifting in and out of consciousness, he felt a heavy, warm weight on his arm. He looked   \n  \nslowly, having to concentrate to still breath steadily. The hellhound lay there, facing   \n  \nhim. His eyes met her blank, shadowed orbs and for a brief moment, she paused an he held   \n  \nhis breath. She winced, baring her teeth. Carl had not even the energy to move, to fear.  \n  \nHe watched from his drunken, incohesive state.  \n  \n They'd laid together before. They'd looked into each other's eyes and saw   \n  \nsomething. Something deep. It went beyond biology, beyond instinct. It went deep beyond   \n  \nthe reproductive imperative that the Dark God believed in solely. Yes, it may have   \n  \nresulted from such basic biological, chemical things, but now it had a life all its own.**   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;It had evolved and matured, much like the world around this ancient, forgotten prison, into   \n  \nsomething much more profound than any chemical reaction could make it. But even if it was   \n  \nonly an elemental reaction, a trick and interpretation of hormones, it was worth it to   \n  \nbelieve that it could be a beautiful thing and that it would somehow prevail over all.  \nWhere Carol had been killed and resurrected, fossilized inside the Hellhound Matron, it was   \n  \nnow her mate's turn. There was no telling how, there was no ancient momentum. The Dark   \n  \nOne had nothing to do with this, he was powerless as this began to occur, as the power   \n  \nrose.  \n  \nThe hellhound looked at the human and through all her conflicting instincts she saw   \n  \nclearing for a moment, and her heart sunk, her stomach churned. Something was gathering on   \n  \nthe far horizons of her consciousness, something she had not felt for aeons, for ages,   \n  \nsomething she was fueled by but had never truly experienced herself.  \nLooking into Carl's fading eyes, deep in the dark, through her twisted, shadowy senses, her   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;blurry eyesight... Smelling his scent, the scent which was how she formed a fuller picture   \n  \nof him in the dark. Hearing and feeling his ponderous, struggling breath, to... To feel   \n  \nhis fading life-force and consciousness, to KNOW that if he fell to sleep he would never   \n  \nagain wake up.  \n  \nShe had always brought death but had never once held death in her paws, looked death in the   \n  \neyes, felt death really come for something... Something she loved.  \nFear, foreboding, dominating and belittling her existence. A terror that was older than   \n  \nher and held a root at the very beginning of human existence. A horror that, whether   \n  \nreasonable or unreasonable, instinctual or spiritual, whether based in the chemistry or the   \n  \nsoul, was so deep and profound that she felt like she sat at the bottom of the ocean and   \n  \nlooked up, to see all the seas of the world rushing in on her, whose edges could not be   \n  \nscene, who could press how out of existence as easily and remorselessly as she'd killed   \n  \nbefore.  \n  \nFear... Of being alone.  \n  \nIt was the true frightening possibility of being nothing and insignificant, fear of really   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;just being a complex series of chemical reactions and biological impulses.[c]  \n  \n  \nShe would save Carl.  \n  \n  \nShe had to. She could not let herself just watch him die in her paws.  \n  \n  \nThrough the debilitating fear she felt a new purpose, and new drive, as she stood slowly on   \n  \nher four paws and pressed over the frail, broken human, whose broken body, like a crushed   \n  \nflower, held desperately onto life but had no hope.  \n  \nThe hellhound Matron, through the bones of Carol, had come to a new plane in its mental   \n  \nexistence. This enlightenment, that somehow made her profound darkness deeper but brought   \n  \nher to a higher level of thought.  \n  \nThe beast looked down at the human and did not know what to do, but knew what had to   \n  \nhappen. She had to save him, she had to... She had to kill him to save him. She had to   \n  \nkill his human body and make it into a new hellhound, like had been done with Carol.  \nHe was so very near to dead that she could smell death moving in. She pressed her strong,   \n  \nblocky muzzle to his neck and spread her black lips; her teeth, long and sharp and holding   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;the deaths of countless people on them.  \n  \nShe kissed his neck, she licked it with her warm, wide tongue.[d] It was hot and soft, she   \n  \ncould taste the salt of his sweat, something that she once savored but now made her stomach   \n  \nchurn.  \n  \nShe turned up his chin and licked up his face, the purely canine affection the best   \n  \napproximation that she could give him, but he was still fading out.  \nShe pressed her body down on him, warm and smoothly-furred, her belly, heavy with the yet-  \n  \nlifeless pups, spread over his hips.  \n  \nStill dying.  \n  \nShe needed to try something, something to bring him hope. She knew that he could never   \n  \nlove her, but... Maybe she could make him see something of his mate in her? [e] Would that   \n  \nmake him despair even more, or give him hope?  \n  \nStill, she needed to. She dug deep. Human affection... Some symbol.  \n  \nShe closed her mouth, she whined lowly. She leaned down, lips still closed. She pressed   \n  \nthem to his quivering, shaky lips, and she felt him stir some, his arms twitch, his leg   \n  \nclench. She felt him tense up with pain, and felt him begin to tighten his grip on life a   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;little, just for an imaginary glimmer of hope.  \n  \nShe kissed him. The hellhound kissed the human, and she tilted her head to the side just a   \n  \nlittle, perhaps an artifact of Carol's memory. She could feel his form shaking weakly with   \n  \nfever, and she began to shake just as bad in her apprehension. [f]His fading mind, she had   \n  \nto help him.  \n  \nHer heavy body on him, she began to whine, to grind against his chest, to try and hold him   \n  \ntight. She felt the fear pressing in on her mind and it made her act more frantically, and   \n  \nfor every little bit more that he slipped, the fear loomed that much higher.  \nShe was desperate, she needed to save him, somehow. With love. But what could love do?   \n  \nAnd love, this... thing, how would it save him? This feeling that grew and strangled her   \n  \ncold, murderous heart and her very reason and instinct. She didn't understand how she   \n  \ncould make this happen at all.  \n  \nShe pressed her head down to his, the side of hers resting on his soft cheek. She looked   \n  \nin the same direction as him, and she felt how his cheek was soft, if slightly roughly-  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;haired, and how her cheek was hard and held under it only strong muscle and bone.  \nShe hoped inside of her, a hope that was deeper than any of her past anticipation of the   \n  \nthrill of killing, or birthing, or mating. She hoped that she had the willpower to do this   \n  \nwhen all her instincts worked against her and her waking consciousness was fighting against   \n  \nthe very principle.  \n  \nShe felt Carl stir under her, and felt a connection bridge between them. Something, thin,   \n  \na spark, something that let her consciousness leak into him. It flooded into him, slowly,   \n  \nas he writhed in pain. It overrode every last little bit of disgust and hate, made them   \n  \nmix into a perverted spiteful, heartrending lust, and at the same time caused a great   \n  \nfeeling of familiarity.  \n  \nThe knowledge, the ancient burden of knowing that Carol had to feel in the beginning of her   \n  \ntrials, now rushed into Carl's mind, filling the void where his life leaked out, easily   \n  \ntaking over and mixing with his mind, which was made pliable by the claws of death. First,   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;there was only raw memories, memories from milleniums ago when there was just he and his   \n  \nmate. The two hounds had lived, they had loved, in the lush, warm forest, for what seemed   \n  \nlike a time that was cut all too short. Banished, by the humans with their wicked obsidian   \n  \ntools and their shamans and fell devices. Banished, them and their master, down into this   \n  \ndeep hole in the ground and never, ever let to see the sunlight.  \n  \nThere was hate, an insurmountable amount of hate that trickled through Carl's waking mind.   \n  \nIt was a soft, black drip that began to fill in and saturate all his thoughts. This   \n  \nintense hate as he experienced it, filled him and overrode every other emotion, as he sat   \n  \nfor ages in the dank tunnels here, in the nothing, in the black, and all that was light and   \n  \nlove faded out from his life like a dying candle.  \n  \nYes, all the wonderful things, all the beauties of life. He had loved and married and met   \n  \na beautiful woman. That form, her lovely curves, they inspired a sudden spite that   \n  \ncorrupted his imagine, the last of the very few memorials of Carol. What was a Carol, any   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;how? He couldn't summon her image forward, but could only bring hate and disgust.  \nHe turned his mind to other things. He felt numb in his body, numb and weak and   \n  \ndisgusting, bloody and dying. He was muted and deafened here as he could hardly hear,   \n  \ncould not smell, could see only a shadow in the blackness. The shadow? It was the other   \n  \nhound. It was Carol, no, it was the Matron. It was his mate. It was who he'd been reborn   \n  \nthrough so many times, here in the dark. It was his all and it comforted his panicking,   \n  \nracing mind and heart.  \n  \nHe tried to lift up his head to lick her but was too weak. She turned down to look at him   \n  \nand in her hollow, hallow black eyes he saw something, an inkling of something he'd never   \n  \nseen before. More than a cunning, or any sort of physical lust. He couldn't understand.   \n  \nThe hellhound couldn't understand. No, Carl, no, the hound, he couldn't understand as he   \n  \nsaw this gleam.  \n  \nWhy was she laying on him? It was comforting. No, pain. He knew he was hurt, his leg, it   \n  \nfelt so foreign, but he was hurt and that's why. Maybe something terrible had happened.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;No, something terrible had happened! Carol, she was wrenched away from him, made from her   \n  \nfrail, weak, useless, ugly human form into the sleek, efficient, black-furred killer that   \n  \nwas now laying on him. How could that be terrible? That was the most wonderful thing   \n  \never.  \n  \n  \nAnd while he fought with himself, time slipped by. The matron looked down at the   \n  \nstruggling human, and reached down to lick his sweat-salted lips. She was gazing at him,   \n  \nintrigued by the change, and when he licked back, she fully understood the gesture. Yes,   \n  \nthat link... That bond between them. No longer was the hound just forcing herself to   \n  \nbelieve that this was her mate, but... The idea was becoming steadier and more acceptable,   \n  \nless reviling to her emotions.  \n  \nBut Carl fought and fought. He gasped, but could only whisper. When from his trance he   \n  \ncame to, from the edge of death, riding in on the tide of memories and instincts, his view   \n  \nsuddenly changed. So much time had passed. He looked from far away at the hound atop him   \n  \nand weakly lifted an arm to her taught shoulder, and stroked through her short, dense fur.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;He spoke to her as he felt this swelling bond, instincts all falling into place with the   \n  \nhound. Where her form was once terrifying, her body was now pleasing. He no longer saw   \n  \nher as the grave of Carol, but as the Hellhound, as his true mate. Carol was nothing more   \n  \nto him. NO. He couldn't let go. Carol was everything... Carol... Carol was still in   \n  \nthere. Carol was gone but she was still in there. She didn't eat him after all. That   \n  \nwas... Wait.  \n  \nHis hand brushed over her bulging stomach, taught with the still forms of the puppies. No.   \n  \n That was... Puppies? He was confused, not sure how to react. If he was here, the Matron   \n  \nwas atop him... He felt the other hound, away somewhere else, deep in the Labyrinth. How   \n  \ncould there be more?  \n  \nBecause he was meant to be the sacrifice! No, what sacrifice? The hound part of him knew   \n  \nonly very little of the ritual and couldn't quite comprehend the mixed-in thoughts of the   \n  \nhuman's. But all that Carl could agree with himself on, is that the Matron was there, and   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;pregnant with the still litter.  \n  \nHe looked up in awe and beheld her beautiful form for the time he could. She lifted her   \n  \nchest off of his just a little, to look the human in the eye. She was sure of what she had   \n  \nto do now, though it rebelled against everything in her... She felt the swiftness of   \n  \nenergy, changing energy, envelope the human's body.  \n  \nThe conception wasn't over yet. No, she knew, it couldn't be over.  \n  \nAlmost at that thought, her sense began to dull down. The world around her failed away as   \n  \nthe input in her mind felt strange. It was as if she felt them draining into his mind, her   \n  \nancient knowledge and hate and anger fading away. She could still recall it but could not   \n  \nactively feel it. It was like she was locked out of the understanding of her senses and   \n  \nher past, focusing almost entirely on her vision.  \n  \nAnd then it was, as if to replace the senses lost, she felt her mind's reason blossom more   \n  \nthan it ever had before, even upon her first introduction to Carol's broadened psych. The   \n  \npetals of thought opened up before her very thought and and overwhelming understanding took   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;her, and left her at awe.  \n  \nThis was the waking human mind, exchanged from Carl to the hellhound, and she opened her   \n  \neyes as if for the first time, and all her senses took in vast amounts of information.   \n  \nEverything was new to her, and a hunger for knowledge, an unknown pliability, overswept her   \n  \nwhole faculty.  \n  \n She looked down at the struggling Carl, and knew now, that he was wrestling with   \n  \nthe hound mind, trying to sort himself out, really, just finding the way that it would best   \n  \nassimilate him. There was a pang of sadness and guilt in her now, as she knew that she was   \n  \nmelting away his very identity. She wasn't directly killing him, devouring him like the   \n  \nDark One intended, but she was taking his life in another way. She was ending his human   \n  \nlife, forever, like she had ended Carol's. Perhaps, she thought, they would still be   \n  \ntogether in a way, through the parallelism of their ends.  \n  \nShe watched him, his writhing, with an adoration befitting a mother, but also with a deep,   \n  \ngrim pride. Here, they were breaking the cycle of death for life with the entrance of the   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;new conception. It was her and this human and the strange new emotion with which he held   \n  \nhis mate that made it possible. Carol and Carl taught the Matron how to love, and that   \n  \nmeant the dawning of a new age for their species.  \n  \nHer attention was bought by the cessation of the man's struggling. He had survived and   \n  \nassimilated the hound mind and she was thrilled. She rose off of his injured body as she   \n  \nheard him try to scent the air and strain his ears for movement, as he tried to growl and   \n  \nfailed. She craddled him to her chest almost like a puppy as he whimpered, isolated in the   \n  \nforeign flesh. He would be her mate, he was well on the way to being a hound. Her heart   \n  \nswelled so that she felt the hot anticipation of their first breeding, which would seal him   \n  \nas the beast.  \n  \nHe anticipated this as well, as she could feel from the change in his heart rate, the rise   \n  \nhe was getting. She would smile if she could, as, with her reasoning mind, she felt there   \n  \nwould be no shame. It was imminent that he would be her mate, so why should there be a   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;delay? Muted was the instinctive hatred of his human form, as she beheld him, replaced   \n  \nwith a little pitiful admiration.  \n  \nShe licked him, tasting his sweat-salted flesh, as he writhed, confused by the weakness of   \n  \nhis form. He pressed his hands into her fur, and she rubbed against him with her chest.   \n  \nShe could feel his excitement, as she teased her helpless mate through the tatters of his   \n  \ntrousers.  \n  \nShe only had to back off of him, leaving a single heavy paw on his chest. She took her   \n  \nteeth and rent away the final entrapments of civilization from his body, and, though her   \n  \nopinion of his fragile masculinity was low, she couldn't help but find joy and arousal in   \n  \nhis helplessness.  \n  \nThis was almost better than scaring humans. She was in power, fully, no longer under the   \n  \nthumb of the Dark One. She was even in power over her mate, as she placed her paws on   \n  \neither side of his head as he whimpered, and she claimed him.  \n  \nAs she took him, and chose him now in body as she had chosen him with the mind earlier, she   \n  \nfelt herself slipping back into ferality. The clarity did not escape her, but her   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;instincts, again surfaced, bubbling. They were different, now, not so violent, so hateful.   \n  \n Cruel and efficient, but flexible. She ruled them yet.  \n  \nAnd as that change took her, she noticed a change begin to overtake her mate, as his body   \n  \nbegan to warp, to grow. His hands on her rolling shoulders felt heavier and larger, the   \n  \nfeeling of his fingers digging in recessed, and claws grew. His body swelled up under her,   \n  \nhis chest peaking under her. His torso grew rounder, as she felt the strong muscles begin   \n  \nto turbidly roll under his skin. His legs cracked audibly and echoed in the stone room,   \n  \neven over the sound of their bestial panting. She shivered and whined as she felt his   \n  \nmaleness begin to change shape within her, fur spreading up from where his feet gnarled   \n  \ninto paws tipped in gruesome claws. He clung to her as his body grew larger, stronger,   \n  \nmore animal until he was larger and more powerful than her, his tightly-coiled, sinewous   \n  \nmuscles bunched up in tension. His neck thickened as the short black fur reached his heavy   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;arched chest, and he turned his head up as it began to push out into a thick, blocky,   \n  \nstrong muzzle with a gruesome whimper.  \n  \nThe spines on his canid member grew out into her folds, claiming her. Thus, he chose her   \n  \nas his physical change finished, as his whimper turned into a loud howl alongside hers and   \n  \ncoiled together to echo in the chamber.  \n  \nShe collapsed on top of him, her muzzled in his neck, her nose full of his musk. A true   \n  \nmale musk that made her giddy and feel like a pup. It awoke a feeling deep in her that had   \n  \nbeen buried for aeons. Something that even Caroline had not brought with her in her   \n  \ndeepest of loves for Carl.  \n  \nAs he turned his new ebon eyes up to her, she caught her breath in a quivering gasp.  \nThose eyes were familiar. They knew her.  \n  \nAnd in her mind she recalled the memories of daylight, of love, of youth...  \n  \nAnd a male hound who was not banished alongside her, who did not fall under the Dark One's   \n  \nsway, who had been trying to come back to her lifetime after lifetime, to break the circle   \n  \nof incestuous birth and death.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;  \n  \n\n"}